Wizard Angst
by madpandi
Summary: Harry Potter, now 27, has found himself in a life that he finds dull and monotonous, as well as restricting. What he had once cherished is now black, and here he is in a new age where love is not within the confines of marriage, and children don't matter.
1. Chapter 1

Marriage had not taken well with Harry Potter. He was twenty-seven now, and had three kids. He couldn't help but feel as if he had wasted his life with this woman, this woman that he had thought he had loved. Then again, it isn't always wise to marry a high school sweetheart, not mattering /what/ they had gone through together. Life threatening experiences brought two people together temporarily in a mad fest of love, but that love had run dry for Harry.

"Good morning, darling!" cooed Ginny, suddenly appearing from behind him with a cup of steaming coffee and a plate heaped high with toast. Butter oozed from it in lavishing amounts, and Harry mentally blanched. He did not show this sudden aversion to her gifts of love, merely nodding and looking back to his paper. The Daily Prophet had nothing of particular to interest to him, and he was forced to set it down and look up into the expectant brown eyes of his week.

"Thank you, Ginny."

Very little else could escape those miserly lips, and he could not even grant a smile. Ginny's bright face wilted before this stinginess of gratitude. She looked questioningly into his hazel eyes, hoping for an answer to this mood. Yes, she had noticed it a bit in the past few weeks – Harry had been in such a rotten mood.

Maybe he was just having hard times at work. Maybe it was the weather. Ginny didn't know, but she wished she did. She missed her old Harry. Or at least, the Harry that was not ornery all the time.

Thinking this, wishing it as hard as possible, she leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. Her lips lingered upon his thunderbolt shaped scar for a few seconds, contemplating whether or not she should ask him. She decided not to against her better instincts. For once, she turned down her womanly intuition to let Harry be. She smiled almost pitifully and left the dining table to ramble about in the kitchen.

Suddenly, piercing screams that materialized out of nowhere ruined the peace of the morning. Ginny immediately threw down whatever she was doing to run up the steps to the nursery. Harry was doing all he could do to contain his rising temper – he had dealt with this racket one too many times in the past night. James had probably done something to Albus, waking him to the world with a vengeance. Soon, he could hear James' wordless wail as well.

By the time the clamor had died down and Ginny had returned downstairs, Harry had already taken his coat and left the house, his breakfast still untouched. Hell, he couldn't even go to work with all this tension.

-x-

The neighbors saw him storm off, and rumors had already started spreading via phone and IM. They were all curious about these more reclusive neighbors, and any news was good news. Poor muggles, they knew nothing about the Potter family.

Harry was just so angry. He couldn't even disapparate. Anger clouded his mind and his senses as he stormed down the street. Little did he see where he was going, and _wham_ he whacked into an unwary pedestrian.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered angrily, not even stopping to say sorry or help the poor person up. He was already hurrying away before person could even get back upon their feet, his chin pulled down to his chest to protect against the cold. He tightened the folds of his jacket with ears deaf to the angry cries of the unlucky person.

A dull object hit him in the head, finally drawing his attention to where it should have been in the first place. He immediately stopped in his tracks, his mind slowly processing what had just happened. Eyes methodically moved to the sidewalk, where a black size seven and a half stiletto heel now lay. He looked up and over at the figure, still sitting upon the ground in defiance.

"Least you can do is say sorry!" she spat venomously, getting on to her feet. She wore a business suit of some sort, clearly on her way to work. Blonde hair hung to mid-back, framing a pretty face flaring red in anger. She stood haphazardly on one heeled foot, the other bare with orange toenails. That was probably the first thing that Harry noticed.

The orange toenails.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry," responded Harry, somewhat bemused. For the first time that day, he cracked a smile, his white teeth glinting brightly in the morning light. He leaned down and grabbed the shoe with one hand, looking up and over his spectacles to glance up at this angry woman. Maybe he would have been angrier had it not been for the orange toenails – they were uplifting as well as comical. He was still smiling as he handed her back her shoe, despite the dirty look on her face. She snatched the shoe from his hand and put it on before whirling around on her heel and striding down the road to wherever it was that she was going. Harry stood in place to watch her go, suddenly feeling much better about his life. 

Orange truly was an optimistic color. He was actually whistling to himself as he made his way to the Ministry of Magic, having decided to go to work like a good worker. Hell, he was in a good enough mood to probably boss around everyone like there was no tomorrow.

-x-

The ministry of magic was in a helter-skelter atmosphere when Harry arrived. His department was in even more chaos then that – nothing would work if he weren't there, even without the odd disaster thrown in.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!" cried his assistant, running into his office with a cup of coffee and a stack of papers. Fresh out of Hogwarts with very little field experience or extraordinary talent, Giselle was now working under the head of the department. Hard work and a dogged conviction won her the job. She was a ditzy brunette that almost reminded Harry immensely of his old friend, Luna Lovegood. Then again/nobody/ could be as ditzy as that woman. 

"What is it, Giselle?" he asked somewhat tiredly, the morning era of freshness wilting with every passing second. He set his coat down on the back of his chair, sinking into it only to let his head drop into his hands. "Don't tell me you set your desk on fire again."

Her innocent face brightened immediately. "I didn't, Mr. Potter! I almost did, but I somehow managed to cancel the spell." Her pride did not wane even with a roll of Harry's eyes. "But that's beside the point. We have a problem." Giselle once more jumped into seriousness, biting her lower lip nervously and tightening her hold upon the papers.

"Well? Spit it out then."

Giselle was dancing in place, as if preparing herself to dash away from Harry's wrath. Her eyes were wide in anxiety. "I think you just see for yourself." Staring at him for one second, trying to measure his level of patience, clearly, she pulled off the first paper from her stack and handed it to Harry. 

"The whole stack was dropped off just five minutes ago and circulated through everyone in the department. It was all I could do to get it all – I'm sure I'm missing a few, though."

Harry was not listening to a word Giselle was saying. His eyes narrowed in anger, his heart's pace beating much more quickly at what he saw printed in solid, taunting print. 

'_POTTER HOUSEHOLD IN SHAMBLES? IS IT TRUE HE BEATS THE KIDS?'_ screamed the heading in bold font, drawing all eyes to it in a heartbeat. Even if Harry read it over and over, he could not make sense of it. Why, this was his morning escapade. All of it was accurate, even the seemingly extraneous description of Ginny's reaction to his surliness. All of it was true, except for the child beating accusations. 

'_Our sources have also unearthed a more frightening truth about the 'boy who lived'. Having grown up, our dear champion has become a monstrous man – capable of even child abuse. His two sons' screams can be heard in the early morning coupled with the thunderous roaring of Mr. Potter, current head of the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic. One can only look back to his days at Hogwarts to recall that violent temper that had frightened many a student up to a traumatic point. One such student has not forgotten:_

"_I could never walk down the hallways without feeling afraid that Potter would jump me. He was insane. /Is, if you know what I mean," says Draco Malfoy, now owner of Borgin and Burkes. _

_An investigation has been called for, so do not fear the monster that sits comfortably in the seat of head of department.'_

"Amanda Ho," muttered Harry through clenched teeth, repeating the name of the fiend that had chosen to defile his name so. "Find me everything you've got on her."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stood at the window, looking out of his office and at the brick wall that was magicked to look like a calming beach scene. His forehead crinkled into a frown and the image morphed into one a bit more melancholy, now a blank plain across which tumbleweed rolled dismally. Sighing, he turned away.

The phone was ringing with a demanding chime, reaching the epitome of its sound earnestly. Sitting a foot away at her desk, Giselle eyed the phone with a wry frown upon her pretty face. "Are you going to answer that, Mr. Potter?" She had been asking that since the morning, and, not shockingly, she received the same answer.

"Of course not."

Everyone who was anyone had called already, and the message inbox had been filled twice over. Still, one could hear the messages being left even if they were not being saved.

"Hey Harry, it's Neville Longbottom. I got yo' toilet fixed, but I just wanted to lettya know if ya ever wanted to leave Ginny, I'd take a good care of yo' kids. I'd - " 

_Click._

Harry cut the phone line before he could hear more. He did not want to hear any more of this bullshit. "I'm not waiting around here, Giselle. There's no way I can get work done. Have a good night."

Her frail 'You too, sir' was barely audible over the sound of the phone's ringing, and Harry slammed the door behind him on his way out. Shrugging his coat on to his shoulder and tipping his hat at the guard, Harry made his way out of the Ministry of Magic. It no longer was a haven from home.

-x-

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh, almost like an autumn apple ready for the picking. The stars were plenty and the moon was full, only wisps of cloud marring the beauty that formed the night sky. Harry looked up at this wonder, standing just outside of the entrance to the ministry with somber eyes, thinking. Today really had been an interesting day. Funny how life tended to screw people over, huh?

Once more Harry chose to walk instead of disapparating. Maybe he just did not want to deal with Ginny at the moment, he wasn't fully sure. Shaking his head, he pulled out a file from his bag and took the steps down into the dark subway. It was pretty late despite the fact that he had left work early, and there were very few people waiting for the train. Only one woman and a hobo lingered that night, and Harry took it as a good sign. 

No one he would know.

The manila folder in his hands was brusque and fully inviting. In it would be secrets that he would truly cherish with relish. Secrets that would make him cackle evilly and gloat over his intelligence and amazing sleuthing skills. A small smile crossed across his lips at this. 

Oh joy.

The train pulled into the station with a roar, and the wind that picked up threatened to scatter all of Harry's papers. He held them protectively to his chest, prolonging the moment of truth for but a bit longer. Finally, the train came to a full stop and the doors creaked open to reveal a dimly lit cabin with paper peeling from the walls. Well, it would have to do. At least it was better than home, what with Ginny and the kids there. And it was a long ride, too. 

Perfection in everything but what mattered, wot wot?

In Harry stepped, finding himself eager as he found a seat. The seat where he sat was the only one that had not been visibly defiled. He had run his wand over it just to give it a quick clean before he sat, at least. 

"Now, for the best part."

He flipped open the file, finding blank paper. Damn that Giselle… what had he told her about wasting blank sheets? Reusing and recycling was of the utmost importance! Irritated, he took the sheet and stuck it at the back of the file. He would deal with his unworldly assistant later. His attention was now focused on the bio data that had been the apple of his eye all day, and now, he would be enlightened about the witch that was spewing rumors about him in the papers.

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Amanda Ho, reporter," he read aloud, though his eyes were more focused upon the picture that he saw. A blonde, pretty and smiling her pearly whites, looked up at him. It was…

… orange toe nails girl.

-x-

She had done her schooling in the US, an American citizen up to current date. Her degree in journalism was quite profitable, seeing that she was the top gossip columnist in England currently. Her last name was that of her step-father's, a Vietnamese man by the name of Tom Brady Ho. Background-wise, she was of the more questionable sort, maybe one that would be known as a 'dirty blonde'. Apparently, she did not care to stoop low for gossip to fuel her articles, and had had many prominent trysts with married men and men of extreme ages. Furthermore, her mentor was of an even more dubious kind:

Rita Skeeter.

Harry knew where this was going, and he regretted that this was the case. This girl, Amanda, had to be getting revenge for Rita. Now it all made sense.

A crackly noise over the PA system signaled that Harry had to get his sorry ass out of the train and home. Regretfully. 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stood on his doorstep, contemplating whether or not he wanted to ring the doorbell. He could always run on down to Ron and Hermione's place, but they had their own problems and kids to worry about. The only thing worse than your own problems was someone _else's_ problems. 

Sighing, Harry pushed the doorbell. It was almost instantly that Ginny showed up, muttering something to herself as she unchained the door. A warm smile was upon her lips as she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. 

"Oh, come in, dear! You must have had a hard day!"

"Mhm…"

Ginny ignored his unresponsiveness for pensiveness and took his coat and hat before shutting the door. She placed them neatly in the closet on their assigned racks before turning back to him.

"And to think, that even after all these years they still want to spread dirt about you. At least it's not true!"

"Mhm…"

Ginny opened her mouth to spew some more reassuring words but she stopped mid word. "It isn't true, is it?"

Harry turned his hazel eyes upon her, finally meeting her gaze. What he saw was not reassuring. Fear, hope, and maybe just a smidgeon of distress were seen in the twin stars of his wife's eyes. Maybe even a tear.

His heart slightly broke. How could he be so cruel to this woman that loved him so completely? Even if they had had no life in the bed for at least three months. It probably was more, but Harry wasn't one to keep track. A small smile formed upon his parsimonious lips. He drew her into a hug, holding her to his chest while slightly petting her flaming locks.

"Of course it isn't true. I don't beat the kids, no matter how much I yell."

Ginny broke away from his grasp with a frown. "I know you don't beat the kids. I was talking to the part about you and me."

"Oh."

An awkward silence passed between them while filling the air with sudden animosity. 

"It's not true," repeated Harry after few minutes, wishing he had said it a bit faster. It looked as if he had thought too hard about the subject, which he definitely had. He was considering the consequences of telling the truth. It was not so pretty when compared to lying. So he lied. "I love you, Ginny, and you are the only one for me."

Ginny's face softened. "I love you too, Harry." She pulled him once more into the soft embrace, all the while wishing that she could just understand why she still felt so cold inside.

ooc; A shorter chapter for y'all, but there's more bound to happen in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

It was three in the morning, his little clock said, and Harry rolled over with a groan. Ginny was sleeping beside him as calm as a dead person but her gentle breathing showed her to be alive. Harry groaned once more, burying his face into the comforts of his pillow. Ginny stirred finally, and she tapped him on the shoulder. A yawn escaped her lips as she muttered something about him going and taking a look at the kids, to see what was wrong. Apparently, she was too tired. Harry gritted his teeth as he sat up, looking down at his wife who had already fallen asleep. Her face was serene and a single lock of hair had strayed onto her face. Had this been any other night, perhaps a romantic one, he would have brushed it away and kissed her on the lips, stirring her to awareness. 

This was not such a night, and such a night had not existed since the kids had arrived.

Harry got to his feet and slid out of bed, shivers running down his spine as his bare feet touched the cold floor. He searched for his robe with strained eyes, but the fluffy white warmth was nowhere to be seen. So were his glasses. 

Cursing, Harry folded his arms across his bare chest and made his way out of the room, down the dark hall, and to the nursery. All that was heard was the gentle rustle of his plaid pajama pants, accompanied by the dull roar emanating from the closed nursery room. 

Harry threw open the door with gusto. 

"WHAT IS THIS RUMPUS?"

He didn't mean to yell, he really didn't. Of course it wouldn't work – the infant wouldn't understand anything but the anger and would only increase its cries. The three year old would understand and cry anyway. Harry forced himself to calm down. 

"There, there," he said in a gentler voice, though it was clearly forced, scooping up Albus into his arms. James was still crying and so Harry patted him on the head awkwardly. His efforts were in vain, for the kids were scared of him as it was. Finally, he just gave up and placed the kids back into their respective slots, pondering what it was that was wrong with them. There were no dirty diapers, the temperature in the room was fine, and they had drunk their milk right before bed. Then what was the problem?

His already weakened eyes turned to the window and out, immediately widening upon realizing what was going on. A person was looking into the open window, but now, they fled. A low curse was heard as the person jumped over the bushes. Harry was already out of the window and dashing across the grass. He almost slipped on the dew tipped blades, but he was persistent. Who the hell had the nerve to be sneaking around his house so early in the morning? He had not been able to see the face of the person due to a mask and completely black attire, but he would _not_ let them get away. 

Harry was glad that he had shocked the person so well by his determination, for they just could not get off of the perimeter in time. Now, if this person were a wizard, they would have to get all the way into the middle of the street if they wanted to disapparate. Harry still had a chance.

With an extra burst of speed, Harry cleared the fence just as the figure did the same. 

_Wham._

They collided and went crashing towards the pavement. A yelp of pain escaped the mouth of the figure in black as the hard cement scraped against the skin. Harry rolled the figure over, pinning their wrists to the ground. 

"What the hell is going on?" he spat, letting free one wrist to pull off the mask that marred his eyesight. He realized that he shouldn't have been shocked at all to find Amanda Ho beneath him. 


	6. Chapter 6

Marriage had not taken well with Harry Potter

"Get off of me!" spat the woman, trying to push him off but failing ultimately. A look of frustration mixed with just a bit of loathing was plastered on that pretty face. Harry just looked angry. He didn't bother to loosen her wrists a bit. 

"Tell me why I shouldn't blow you to kingdom come?" he sneered, squinting slightly to see threw his weak eyes. God, if only he had his glasses he could see the bitch in a better light. Still, at least he could see enough to discern the grimace and the dislike written so clearly before him. Even in a situation that was so demeaning to her, Amanda managed to be an uppity prick.

"Well, you don't really have your wand or anything with you."

"Oh?" said Harry with anger flaming at intense levels. "I don't think that would prevent me from maybe landing a fist or two and telling any court afterwards that it was for my own protection from a trespasser!" 

"I'm a woman!" She seemed genuinely surprised that Harry would say that. Surely he would be man enough to not hit her!

_Slap_. 

The sound rang through the air as Harry let free one wrist to bring his hand across her cheek. She immediately held the reddening flesh with her free hand, looking off to the side in stunned disbelief. Maybe she was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Harry had just slapped her. 

"Some woman you are for spreading trash about me in the papers." 

He really couldn't believe he had done it, either. Never before had he reacted so badly to the lies spewed in the papers. He hadn't even beat his wife before to give way to such behavior. Clearly there was a monster lurking within him that he had to tame. At least, before more people got hurt. It was almost in a stunned fashion he got to his feet. Amanda accepted his hand to get to her feet, but she too was bewildered into silence. For a second, their eyes met, but both pairs were blank. 

They turned, and walked away in opposite directions. By the time Harry had made it home, Amanda was gone. 

-x-

The next morning, Harry knew that he would be better off asleep. Today was a day he could not go to work, not in the least. His assistant would make sure all the usual work would be done, and if there were to be a real crisis, she would call him personally. No, he would not deal with the crap from his co-workers and subordinates today.

"I'm not going," he muttered, more to himself than anyone seeing that Ginny was not lying beside him. It was later than he thought.

Seconds ticked by, and the room was as silent as it was seconds before. Nothing moved, nothing changed – Harry sat up like a zombie. A blurry figure stood in the doorway with a blurry bundle in its arms. Ginny and Albus.

"Good morning," he said mechanically. Their little family, why, it had become clockwork. 

"Good morning."

Ginny walked up and as she did so, the fuzzy edges became firmer to reveal his gentle, kindly wife with a newspaper and baby in her hand. Of course Harry's attention went straight to the paper. He reached for it, but stopped his reaching in mid air. "Anything I don't want to read?" he asked groggily. 

"Perhaps, but then again, you're probably going to have to get used to it." Harry could not see the sympathy in her eyes what with the lack of glasses. Too bad those damn things were missing. He accepted the paper with unease knotting in his stomach. The headlines read, "_LIVING TESTEMONY TO THE POTTER FEAR"_. 

With a groan, Harry fell back into bed and pulled the sheets over his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry was standing outside of a rundown apartment complex with a slip of paper in his hands. He had pulled the number and address off of one of his shadier muggle contacts – this was so that no one could possibly know he got it. He knew that his name would probably be ruined if he went through with what he intended to do, especially with Amanda poking around so much.

But he felt as if he had to.

Things had not fared well at home with Ginny after the newspaper's headlines. The passage that followed had little to do with actual events, and the slap was not even mentioned. What /was/ mentioned was that an innocent pedestrian was chased out of the block by a raving Harry Potter. There was just a faint brushing with fact, but Amanda was much better at exaggerating and falsifying real events. Ginny, well, she had been encouraging about it. No fire, no passion – nothing. Harry was more than disappointed at the turn of events.

"It'll be okay, honey," she had said, kissing him on the forehead and leaving. Harry was weeping on the inside despite his weary 'thanks'.

Where the hell was the flame of their love life? Had it vanished forever?

Harry was getting sick of his own negative thinking, and had decided that he would do something with his life. He was going to go and get himself some 'fun'. That's why he was now standing at the front door of some prostitute's house.

With intense wariness, Harry knocked. He was surprised by how quickly it was answered, and he was looking down at a petite Asian dressed in some snazzy lingerie.

Damn. Ginny didn't own lingerie.

"Hey, baby. You Mr. Potter?" she cooed with a cheap British accent. Harry was sure she was American – it was always obvious when those people tried to be British. He stepped into the apartment with a shrug.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

The woman smiled coyly, reaching forward to pull his hat off as well as to relieve him of his jacket.

"I'm sexkitten54. It's a _pleasure_ to meet you."

Yes, there were underscores in that name. It was even written that way on the paper in Harry's hand. Maybe Harry was just a newbie at this, but he hadn't thought that prostitute's would have such odd names. Even as sexkitten54 wrapped her arms around him and placed her lips against his neck, he was only wondering about _why_ she was named like that.

He voiced these doubts, only to receive pleasant laughter from the woman.

"Let's get comfortable while I tell you," she said, pulling him over to the bed that was situated oh so close to the door and an easily accessible distance. The smell of inexpensive perfume filled Harry's nostrils as sexkitten54 coddled up to him.

The story that Harry heard next was shocking as well as inanely hilarious. Apparently, all prostitutes went to a school where they learned whorish techniques. This was her ID #, the best way to know who and which pimp was the best. The commonplace prostitutes were mostly named Amber or Crystal, but the best ones were given the 'hotter' names, as sexkitten54 explained.

Hell, whatever she was called, Harry was getting laid tonight.


End file.
